For once, the 'Western Mail' got it dead on in Chris Hall's review of what could well be Gwent Theatre's last ever production, a performance of 'A Pocketful of Magic' at The Melville, Abergavenny. The headlines read 'Swan Song Makes Arts Cuts A Nonsense' and merited the play five stars.

Just a fraction of the WNO's enormous grant would save Gwent Theatre, with their proud and oh so creative history in so many communities in Monmouthshire and the Valleys.

I had the privilege of being there and chatting with Gary Meredith, one of the founders, long-time artistic director and one of the remaining two actors. Gary and his fellow actor Jain Booth performed a play aimed at Primary schoolchildren to a predominantly adult audience, abled assisted by Stage Manager George Davis-Stuart, who once taught at the same school as me in Merthyr.

Gary despaired at the future under the Welsh Arts Council's Cameron-like cuts, carried out by Nick Capaldi and that Labour stalwart Prof. Dai Smith. He explained how their business plan had been based on theatre in education , yet the WAC turned around and dismissed this area completely. As my wife - a Primary teacher for many years - rightly pointed out, theatre in education is fundamental to the development of literacy, supposedly a priority of the government in Cardiff.

Yet Gwent Theatre, together with Theatr Powys and Spectacle in the Rhondda, will cease to exist because of these insane cuts which continue to favour elitist art-forms like opera.

Gwent have a thriving Youth Theatre, visit numerous schools and have put on many superb productions for the public over the years. My outstanding memory is of one of their earlier pieces, John Prior's 'Horns of the Bull' at Tredegar Comp.

It was a play which altered my perception of Welsh theatre totally. Hitherto, I'd thought in terms of 'Under Milk Wood', yet here was a drama about Valleys' history played to a packed audience who were actually asked to decide the fate of the main character! It was a revelation and whenever Gwent Theatre performed at Bethesda Arts Centre in the 80's or Cefn Coed Community Centre after that, we would attend, relishing works about Chartism or the Merthyr Rising often written by Charles Way, one of Wales's greatest playwrights ever.

While 7:84 and Hull Truck made a national impact, Gwent deserved to do likewise and certainly did so locally. It was the highpoint of theatre in the Valleys and venues like Bethesda made it possible. In June a new theatre opens in Merthyr at Soar Chapel, but I wonder how many Welsh companies will be left to visit there.

Gary and his Youth Theatre members have tried everything to keep it going, including a vociferous protest outside the Arts Council's offices in Cardiff. Dai Smith had recently written an article in the 'Western Mail' about the importance of protest throughout history, especially in the Valleys. When the latter was drawn from his office by the noisy chanting, he approached Gary Meredith and referred to the demo. 'Yes Dai! You see, it's wired into the DNA of people in the Valleys!' Gary proceeded to quote Prof. Smith's own words back at him!

In 'A Pocketful of Magic' we can all become children again, audience and actors together, realising the mythical and magical power of story-telling.

I sincerely hope this particular tale will have a final twist : that the Wicked Wizard with axe made of gold will not chop off the head of the child he doesn't realise as his own! Dai Smith is a Man of Ponty, a supposed believer in the power of solidarity, but I seriously think he has forgotten where he came from.

The following poem is from my book 'Language of Flight' and it references the play 'Bread and Roses' written by Charles Way for Gwent Theatre. Bethesda was run by volunteers for years, but eventually ( given no Council support) became a Job Club.

BETHESDA HAS GONE

Where it used to be is a plaque,colouful mosaic bearing the legend'Bethesda Chapel', where Joseph Parry played,not a sign of its second life.

Even the street's cut in halfby a ring road and the statueof a town hero with brassy fiststells of another way out.

But I recall those dramaslike 'Bread and Roses', the wordsclear as prayers: how congregationsbecame audiences, the altar a stage.

In the vestry's dark roomprints would rise from the tomband a potter's wheel spunthe psalms of the unemployed.

Above, in the gods, many frameswere haloed, as every causefrom CND to Anti-apartheidpreached its gospels below.

Bethesda had to be saved.We were its disciples, againstthe Council's philistine force.I sigh now, every time I pass.